


Tag You're It

by sincerelywrong



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Chasing, Cuddling, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 03:27:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6453541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincerelywrong/pseuds/sincerelywrong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John play a rowdy game of tag. But it's romantic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tag You're It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wendlaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendlaa/gifts).



> jfkfdjg this is all fae's fault

The rules of the game:

1\. Brief physical contact does not count as “Caught”  
2.You have to be able to actually stop the chasee from moving. This can be a full-on tackle, a lift, an aggressive hug. As long as they can’t get away within three seconds, they are Caught.  
3\. If anyone says “Pain” multiple times, that means they are really hurt, and the chase is suspended right away. It is up to hurt member, when their wound is dressed, if the game should start again.  
4.There is no time limit.  
5\. The chasee cannot become the chaser, unless they first allow themselves to be caught.

The terms of this specific game: 

1\. Sherlock is being chased. John is chasing.   
2\. They are both one hard-cider downed, and giggling.

And go.

—————————————————————————————————

This is one time Sherlock regrets having the couch against the wall. A good time of which-way-round-the-couch-am-going-next could be had, if he had only thought to move it out before they had begun. He was sure that'd make John giggle even harder. It's the sort of thing that would…

As it is, they're locked in mortal pursuit around the kitchen table, whose corners are not so forgiving as the couch would be. John lunges to the left, and Sherlock screams and bolts into the hall, John quick on his tail.

"You flail your arms so much when you run!" John hollers, laughing between words.

"It's a distraction, obviously!" Sherlock counters, barely making the sharp turn into the bathroom, and bursting through the connecting door into the bedroom. "You won't be watching what my feet are doing!"

John laughs, as he cuts to the bedroom door, avoiding the bathroom detour, only to find that Sherlock has popped back out through the bathroom while he was turning the knob.

"You sneaky cock!" He shouts, stumbling as he's overtaken by laughter. His face is red, and his ears are getting there. He pauses to remove his jumper as Sherlock trots in-place a few meters away, waiting for him to catch up.

"It serves you right for the last time!" Sherlock yells.

"No, that was payback for the time beFORE—" John says, as he tosses his jumper to the floor, and lunges at Sherlock.

A back-and-forth of screams rings through the flat, as John nearly catches Sherlock, but he slips away by the tail of his tattered tee.

"—when you did that leap over me, on the stairs!"

"That was-" screech, nearly caught, ducks back into the kitchen, "perfectly fair and I did not-" stumble, barely stays upright, "clip you on the head, like you did threetimesbefoorrre" and back to around the table.

John and Sherlock stand on opposite sides of the table, Sherlock bent over double, snickering uncontrollably, John with his hands on the table, not making a sound as his shoulders shake with laughter. They remain like this, as both take deep gasping breaths, and occasionally look up, to see how the other is doing.

"You're keeping up really well, old man." Sherlock teases. 

John's eyes blaze fire, and his grin is wide and cocked. "You're one to talk, birthday boy."

"shhhh-hn-hn-hn-snrrks" 

Sherlock's laughter reinfects John, and they once again quietly fall apart.

In a sudden movement, John is back after Sherlock, who yelps in surprise, and scrambles into the living room, heading blindly for the couch.

"No! No!" he hollers, arms flailing again, but this time John is not so distracted.

In an single movement, John dives for Sherlock, lifts him up over his shoulder, and brings them both crashing down onto the couch.

The couch makes a sound like three goats playing a single harmonica, and shakes.

Sherlock is pinned on his stomach, underneath John's whole body, and is laughing so hard he squeaks. John is kissing his neck, and counts "1" -kiss- "2" -kiss- "3! You are officially, Caught."

He lifts his bodyweight up, allowing Sherlock to roll onto his back, and then he settles back down.

"Happy birthday, Sherlock." He says, and kisses his nose.

"I win." Sherlock murmurs smugly, and kisses John on the lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaand downstairs, Mrs Hudson breathes a sigh of relief, and removes her headphones. 
> 
> I didn't edit this at all. No beta. I don't care. I am a trash writer, I have no standards.


End file.
